She Walks
She walks past him in the morning, her long raven hair flowing behind her. She is surrounded by friends yet she is alone. Just like he is. He follows her into the Great Hall and takes a seat on the opposite side of the room to her. He sits at the Slytherin table, she is at the Gryffindor one. He glances up at her often, as though she were a magnet for his eyes. He doesn't know why he looks, but he cannot help it.
He is drawn to her pale skin and shimmering green eyes. She laughs and talks with so many different people, yet no other can know her way of thinking. She is unfathomable. Her wit is sharp and she has talent beyond measure. Perhaps that is what draws him to her.
She walks out onto the Quidditch pitch, broom in hand. As she mounts her broomstick, she smiles up at the crowd. The fate of her team is in her hands. If she does not catch the snitch, they all have to cope with the loss.
He stares down from the stands. Even from this great distance, he can see she is smiling with lips the colour of her Quidditch robes. He sees the look of concentration on her face as she zooms past the stand he is sitting in. Usually he would not watch Quidditch matches; he would find much more useful things on which to spend his time. However, recently he has become increasingly interested, not in the game itself, but a rival team's star player.
She is not the usual build for a Seeker; she is far too tall, and yet she can spot the Snitch much quicker than others. Just like, years from the present, she would become known to spot trouble faster than any of her colleagues. She is intriguing, contradicting all the general rules of everything. She is not one of those girls who cares more about their looks (though hers are most agreeable). She is the only girl in the school who is not falling at his knees.
She is diving, spiralling further down when, as the Ravenclaw Seeker realises what she is doing, she pulls out, a little golden ball in her hand. She raises it above her head, like her team-mates lift her above theirs. She is carried away by her team. He is left alone in the stands.
She walks across the grounds in the brisk Highland air. She breathes in the cool scent of the flowers blooming around her as she walks towards the lake. She cannot sleep, so she goes to swim. She knows she will be punished if she is caught, but she does not mind.
He sees her. He knows he should not be outside at this time but as he is about to leave, he sees her. She stands by the lake, looking over its glittering surface, seeing the moonlight reflecting upon it. She removes her dark dressing gown, revealing her navy bathing costume. He knows he should leave but he is captivated. He is mesmerized by the girl before him.
She is a year above him so he gets to communicate with her less than he would wish. Now, it matters not. He should walk away. Get back to his Common Room without alerting anybody to his presence. It is impossible. She bewitches him. Unknowingly, maybe, but she bewitches him. He feels in that moment that he has never seen anything so lovely as the vision before him. He feels in that moment that he has never seen any person so ravishing as the one who stands before him.
He watches her swim for a while. He watches her wade though the water, creating ripples around her. He watches her as she hypnotizes him more and more.
He suddenly comes to his senses as she slips out of the lake, pulls her dressing gown back on and dries her hair using the wand tucked in its pocket. He wishes he could stay, wishes he could admire her longer. He must leave. He heads back to his Common Room with only one wish ingrained into his mind. He thinks, though he wishes he didn't, that he may be falling for her.
She walks past him in the corridor, on her way to dinner. Her arms are laden with books and her friends are, once again, encircling her. He knows how to get her alone. He deliberately walks into her shoulder, knocking the books from her arms.
"Watch where you're going," shouts one of her friends.
"It's fine, Alastor," she replies, "you go ahead, I'll catch up with you in a minute."
Her friends, though somewhat reluctantly, vanish around the corner and she bends to pick up her books. He has to stop himself from admiring her figure. He turns to her.
"I am so sorry about that," he says politely, "Let me help you with these books." He starts to pick up the books around him.
"There is no need, really, I can manage them by myself," says she. He does not listen to her. As they both reach for the final book, their eyes meet. Vibrant green boring into his. He can feel the tension building and hands her back the remainder of her books. He smiles at her. She returns his smile.
"Oh, I beg your pardon," he says silkily, extending his hand, "My name is Tom. Tom Riddle."
She accepts his hand and replies lightly: "Minerva. Minerva McGonagall." She looks at him curiously as he realises that he is still gazing into her eyes. He does not know what to say. "Th-thank you, Tom." She says.
"No trouble. I-I'll see you, then." And he walks away. Why does he walk away?
She walks into the library and hands the librarian a note. She is shown into the Restricted Section. He sits at a table all by himself. He waits for her. She returns minutes later, carrying several thick volumes. She enquires as to the inhabitant of the seat opposite him. He tells her it is vacant and she sits.
They sit in silence for a long while as she drags her quill along her parchment and he forces himself to stop glancing her way. He thinks she does not notice the way he looks at her, but she does. He cannot bear the silence any more.
"Minerva, I was thinking..."
"That makes a change." Her acid tongue is at work again. He continues as if she had never spoken.
"There is a Hogsmeade trip this weekend and I was wondering whether you cared to join me?"
She hardly pauses before answering: "I would be delighted, Tom."
"Well, in that case, how does twelve o'clock in the Three Broomsticks sound to you?"
"I shall see you there, Tom." She smiles and walks away yet again.
She walks into the Three Broomsticks, prompt as usual, and takes a seat with him. He can't take his eyes off her in her knee-length navy dress. He is once again encapsulated by the beauty that is her. He orders their drinks as they sit a while and talk.
They talk about many things, trivial things. They leave the pub in a flurry of snow. They stand outside for a time; admiring the views. He looks at her. She looks at him. For one wild second their eyes and minds connect.
Before either can fully realise what they are doing, their lips meet. Her hands ruffle his hair and his hands fly to her waist. She steps back.
"Thank you, Tom." He grabs her hand.
"Please, dom't go yet." She removes her hand from his grip.
"Goodbye, Tom Riddle." And she walks away. He will see her again. But, still, she will walk away.